


Gensokyo Festival 2020

by Noxshade



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Cameos, Crossover, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Gensokyo Festival, Kanako and Suwako in the outside world, Mother-Daughter Relationship, The Dream Realm is where crossovers happen, Vignette, article in the Bunbunmaru News, chilling in the SDM, cirno origin story, discussion of off-screen violence in ch14, flandre play-acts her own cool adventure, koishi doesn't understand death, marisa's relationship with her father is no-good, mayumi origin story, outside world, some light but not explict RenMerry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23065996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noxshade/pseuds/Noxshade
Summary: My first real attempt at fanfiction, writing about one short scene for each day. Composed with the prompts from the Gensokyo Festival tumblr.  Feedback appreciated.
Relationships: Maribel Hearn/Usami Renko
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	1. Day 1: Beginnings

“Grandma, can you tell us the winter story?”

Michiko looked out on the half-dozen children gathered around the kotatsu. Round-faced and wide-eyed, they all stared up, expectantly. Grandma Michiko’s stories were a favorite in the Human Village, and although most of the children gathered less often now, in the dead of winter, Michiko’s granddaughter and her closest friends still gathered every week to hear her tales. Michiko leaned back, recalling the tale and staring off, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Many, many years ago; more than two Hakurei maidens ago; there came a winter so bitter and cold that your great-grandparents all thought that the sun would never shine on our village again. They prayed at the Great Dragon statue, when they could leave their homes at all. Everyone was convinced that the terrible winter was the work of a wicked youkai,” she paused for the question she knew was coming.

“Why didn’t they get the Hakurei maiden to exterminate the youkai?” asked Kaede, who shivered involuntarily at the thought of another long, cold winter caused by youkai.

“Many did try,” Michiko answered “But the snowstorms were so relentless, that few dared to chance a journey to the shrine, and many of those who did try to reach her never returned. One who did make it back claimed the way to the shrine was blocked by a yuki-onna, a blizzard-maiden, begging to be taken out of the cold so she could devour his soul. It frightened him so much that he ran back to the village.

“Eventually, one brave young girl was able to sneak out of her house, and ran for the Hakurei shrine, keeping her head down, as to avoid eye contact with any youkai she might encounter on the road. She finished her trek up the stairs to the shrine, and collapsed against the donation box in front of the shrine. The Hakurei maiden heard her cries, and brought her inside, setting her under the kotatsu. Ensuring the girl was okay, she set off to deal with the youkai causing the blizzard.” She paused for a drink of tea, and let the tension hang in the air. They all knew how this would end, but the pacing was important.

“The Hakurei maiden defeated the yuki-onna, shredding her power into many pieces. The blizzard-maiden was reduced to a guardian spirit of the winter, a gentler youkai, who could appear only in the deep woods during winter, hiding from humans behind her white locks of hair.” Again, she waited for one of the children to take the hook.

“But what about all the power she lost?” little Asahi obliged.

“Many of the pieces became strong flowers, and others spawned swarms of mischievous spirits. One large fragment settled in a snow drift by the Misty Lake, where it and the mound of snow and ice remained for a full six months, deep into summer. All the elders warned the children of the village to stay away from it, but many played around it anyway, shaving ice off the mound to cool off in the sweltering heat,” she paused. “Then one hot July day, the same young girl who reached the Hakurei shrine in the winter was playing by the lake, when the magical snow drift exploded!”

All the children gasped, even the two who had heard the story before. 

Michiko smiled. “As the snow and ice drifted down in the summer air, the girl saw another figure, almost her same age, floating where the ice had been. She wore a dress as blue as the Misty Lake, and skin as pale as unblemished snow. But it was not her strange dress or the fact that floated above the lakeside, or that she appeared laughing from the magic snow that struck the young girl as odd, but the fine wings of ice that sprouted from her back, like delicate icicles, unmelting in the summer sun.”

“Ice fairy!” shouted Yuuto, the youngest of the children.

“Yes, it was an ice fairy. As she soared around the edge of the lake, she giggled, finally knowing the joy of life. She floated down, and asked the human girl to play with her. And play they did, the fairy spreading a chilling breeze to dull the summer heat for her and the other children, and freezing frogs by the lakeshore, to watch them thaw and jump back into the lake. The young girl taught the fairy all manner of games, and they played all day.

“The sun began to hang low in the sky, and the girl sadly had to part with the ice fairy, as she knew that she could not come home with a youkai, for surely her parents would die of fright. The fairy understood, but before leaving she asked the girl for a name, for the fairy was born without one. Looking at her western-style dress and bows, and thinking hard with half-remembered English lessons, she called her ‘Chillno.’ The fairy thought for a long moment, then exclaimed ‘Great! My name is Cirno!’”

The children laughed at the fairy’s mispronunciation. Sipping her tea, she judged it late enough to send the children home. As she pulled on her coat and instructed the children to do the same, one asked, “Is Chillno still around? Kirisame-san said fairies can never die, ever!”

“Oh, little Cirno is still around, still as young as she was when she appeared by the lakeside all those years ago. Fairies can never die, but nor do they age, so she will be young and ready to play every day, for as long as there is life in Gensokyo. You may see her as a glimpse of sparkling blue in snowfall, or when you feel a cool breeze blow through the town in the summer.”

Machiko attended the children as their parents came to collect them, and then took her tea to the back porch and sat, watching the snow fall. She looked over at the plate she had left out before the children came over. She left it out with dango or some other treat once a week, and without fail, every week, it was gone when she returned. In its place was a tiny ice sculpture of a snowman, crafted by a familiar hand.


	2. Day 2: Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mokou ponders her diet, past and present with Mystia.

“How many jobs do you have anyway?” asked Mokou.

Mystia sighed as she turned the skewed lampreys over on the grill. She appreciated the sizzle of cooking fish before turning to answer the annoying, immortal human. “Two. Food vendor and rock star.”

Mokou traced a finger around the edge of her sake dish. “But you’re also a consummate con-woman. And also a danmaku fighter.”

“I don’t get paid for my danmaku, so it’s not a profession.” Mystia countered “And please don’t call me a conwoman, I’m an entrepreneur.”

Mokou rolled her eyes. “Where’d a young youkai like you learn that fancy word? Lemme guess...at band practice.”

“Yeah, the brat with the glasses and handbag called herself that when she got caught trying to steal from Byakuren-sama. It didn’t really work, and she got extra chores,” Mystia said as she drizzled a bit of sauce on the skewered lampreys while giving them another spin. Mokou smiled at the image of the “Most Deplorable Plague God” getting sat down for a lecture from a semi-mortal monk.

“Okay, so setting aside your night-blindness con,” Mokou continued, and Mystia winced again at the word “You’re a guitarist and singer, which I’m lumping into ‘musician’, and you do actually cook the food, so I guess that’s a real job. How did this whole operation get started?”

“Well, I’d eaten lampreys raw for a while, and when I tried them grilled they were even better, so I figured I’d try and sell them,” Mystia removed the three fish skewers from the grill, set them on a plate and sprinkled some salt on them. “But as you can imagine, not many people were eager for lampreys, so I used my powers to...guide them to my stand.” She set the plate of grilled lampreys in front of Mokou and topped off her sake dish.

“Eh, I would have tried it, even without the tengu’s article.” Mokou took a sip of sake, then began nibbling on the side of her first skewer, and Mystia gave her a suspicious look. Mokou swallowed the bite she was chewing and continued. “I mean, I’ve tried all kinds of stuff since I became immortal. Lots of it could barely be considered food.”

“Like what?” Mystia was inspecting a batch of new lampreys with her long talons, making sure they were all good to go for her next, expected customer.

“I’ve actually forgotten most of it. Thirteen centuries is a really long time to have to find something new to eat, especially since none of it can kill me for long.” Mokou took another bite and chewed quickly, “But the standouts I remember pretty clearly. I think I tried every kind of fish alive, raw, cooked and blackened. There was the time, lost in the woods, when I got bored of taking bites out of trees, and tried to eat a log from my campfire while it was still lit.” Mokou paused for a sip of sake and saw Mystia’s horrified expression. “Oh come on Lorelei, I’m not even to the really bad stuff.”

“I’m not sure I want to get any further down the list. I just want to know: why? I know you don’t need food to survive, so why try and eat rocks or whatever?”

Mokou stared into her sake dish for a long moment before answering. “I still get hungry. And when two weeks' empty stomach can’t kill you, you need to think of some way to fill it.” Mystia could see in her eyes that she was trying to explain this to herself as much as she was Mystia. “And when you get to real low points, you’ll do any stupid, pointless thing to feel something. Even if it’s a different pain and misery.” There was a painfully long pause between the two.

“Well,” said Mystia, eventually “I hope my lampreys are better than burning firewood.”

“Definitely.” Mokou replied, and they both chuckled. Soon after, Mokou’s date and Mystia’s next customer arrived. And as she set her scythe down by the side of her seat, Komachi looked at Mokou’s plate.

“Alright Mokou, this stuff certainly smells good, but I had dinner by the Sanzu last night, and the Ushi-oni who lives there was selling grilled coelacanth, so I’m looking forward to comparing,” said the ferrywoman. She looked over to Mystia, and added “I’ll have what the immortal is having, with a bottle of sake!” And with that, Mystia got back to work.


	3. Day 3: Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flandre's boredom gives rise to a new story.

Flandre Scarlet sat alone in her room. While Sakuya, Meiling or Koakuma would often come to keep her company, they were all occupied, and Flandre was running out of things to do. She had promised her sister she wouldn’t leave the mansion, and the library was off-limits while Patchouli engaged in some delicate alchemical experiment. She had already constructed several adorable new stuffed animals, then utterly obliterated them, and the shade of boredom was beginning to set in.

Gazing around her room for the fourth time, her eyes fell on a wooden box tucked away in a corner, one that she hadn’t played with in decades. She floated over and extracted the elaborate chest from beneath several blankets and rugs before popping the chest open. Inside were dozens and dozens of wooden blocks from centuries ago. At last, something to do. With a snap, the floor cleared itself, and Flandre dumped the chest’s contents onto the carpet at the center of her room.

With a twist of her hand, the blocks began to sort themselves; bricks, arches, cones, wedges and more slowly assembled themselves into piles with the arrhythmic sound of wood sliding on wood. As blocks sorted, she noticed a small pile of figures that had gathered at her feet via the sorting spell. Flandre picked one up and examined it. It was a very crude representation of a humanoid, little more than a cone painted red topped, with a peach-colored orb where the point of the cone should have been. Faint, faded black lines told of a dozen different expressions this figure had worn with paint or ink, before being wiped away. An idea began to form in Flandre’s mind.

She tapped the head of the little doll and a tiny mob cap, a mirror of the one she wore on the rare occasions she left the basement, appeared on the doll’s head. She poked it on the side, and tiny, rainbow-colored, crystalline wings sprouted from the sides of the cone. She set the miniature wooden Flandre down on the carpet and pulled a pillow up under her chin as she laid down and began sorting through the figures. A purple one became Patchouli with a little set of glasses and a wooden book attached to the side, and a dark blue Sakuya figure got a frilly headdress and a tiny stopwatch painted on the side. She quickly filled out her family, friends, and more. She made a Reimu and Marisa, set them by Sakuya, then thought for a moment. She pulled the last powder blue figure out and thought hard about Reimu’s description of the other miko, the annoying one from the outside world. Flandre had never met her, but Reimu and Marisa described how she had helped them with many incidents. She poked its head, adding a frog and snake decoration.

With her cast completed, Flandre spent the next hour constructing a wooden block Gensokyo, as best she knew it from maps and occasional glimpses outside. The Scarlet Devil Manor was easy, she grabbed all the red blocks there and made a miniature mansion. For the Misty Lake, she pulled a bright blue blanket from her closet and set it down in the rough shape of the lake. She set the figure of the ice fairy, with her friend and their three rival fairy pranksters down on the lake, and slipped a mermaid doll underneath the blanket. From there, her enthusiasm spun a spell, and the sorted blocks moved to create all the landmarks she knew of. Many rows of boring brown blocks constructed the Human Village, all the green cones arranging into the Forest of Magic, with two open spots for Marisa and Ms. Margatroid’s houses, and a pile of yellow cylinders turned green as they became the Bamboo Forest of the Lost, a generic purple building forming what Marisa had described as a “rabbit house”. And lastly, she hand-assembled the Hakurei Shrine, at the eastern edge of her wooden Gensokyo. It was ready, except...the burgeoning story in her mind still needed one thing: a villain. She snapped her fingers and three mirror images of herself appeared, cloaked in darkness. At last, the stage was set.

* * *

> _“It's bad!” shouted the other shrine maiden as she flew towards Marisa. “There's three shadow demon king things threatening the human village, right before the big festival!”_
> 
> _Marisa set a look of grim determination on her face. “We should assemble the Incident Resolution Squad!” They both set off for Reimu’s shrine. Reimu was lazing about the shrine, lamenting her poverty, as usual. Marisa and The Other Miko told her all about the demon, and she groaned._
> 
> _“I guess we should get the perfect maid as well.” she said._
> 
> _“I should help as well,” said the ghost gardener samurai, who was also there for some reason._
> 
> _“You’re right Gardener,” said Reimu, “We’ll need all the help we can get!” The four of them flew over to the Scarlet Devil Manor, and asked that Sakuya Izayoi aid them in their battle._
> 
> _“This sounds like a really serious incident,” Sakuya said, wondering to herself. “Will we five elite Incident Solvers be enough to handle it?”_
> 
> _Flandre had been watching from the shadows, and now she spoke up, “Perhaps you all would like some help with this?”_
> 
> _“Oh yes, the legendary Left Hand of Obliteration!” said The Other Miko “Please help us vanquish this evil!”_
> 
> _“This darkness is an old adversary, I will aid in your quest, and we will save the Century Festival!” Flandre heroically replied, and they set off to confront Forakindus, the triune of legendary evil sealed in the depths of Makai for four hund--_

* * *

Someone knocked on her door.

“Flandre, I’m back from the market, and I’m cooking dinner and need help,” came the voice of Sakuya. “Would you like steak and potatoes or sausage?”

“Sausage please!” Flandre replied, and she left her room to help prepare the meal. As she did, her duplicates dissolved, and her tiny Gensokyo entered fictional limbo. The shocking reveal of the little wooden Flandre’s true identity as the lost fourth member of Forakindus that rebelled against the others, and the fate of the Centennial Festival for Magical Girls both saved and not saved by the arrival of dinner time.


	4. Day 4: On The Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanae has a curious encounter in the Human Village.

Sanae Kochiya wandered down the main street of the Human village, wondering where to purchase tremendous amounts of sake. A few bottles was easy, but Kanako had tasked her with getting gallons and gallons of the stuff for a flower-viewing, and being the teetotaler she was, had no idea of where to start. She had thought of asking Kirisame-san or Hakurei-san, but thought it was such a basic question that she feared being teased even more than she already was. She had just resolved to go ask at Suzunaan, when a flash of red caught her eye.

Sanae turned and stopped when she saw her. Speaking with a road-side cart merchant, was a tall woman dressed in western garb, her jacket and long skirt were vibrant red, with a loud plaid pattern. She had a light pink parasol collapsed, leaning on it with both hands like a cane, and short, neck-length, wavy green hair. And while her look was certainly striking, what really stopped Sanae dead in her tracks was her aura. While her sense for these things wasn’t as refined like Hakurei-san’s or the hermit that hung around her shrine, she could instantly tell that this _thing_ was not human. 

Sanae regained her composure, and decided that as a fledgling shrine maiden, it was part of her duty to investigate this oddity. She crossed the street and stood nearby, attempting to covertly observe the woman. She could see now that the man she was speaking to was a farmer, and the snippets of conversation that drifted past her told her that they were discussing fertilizer and seeding techniques. After another minute, the woman said her farewell and began moving down the street towards Sanae. She decided this was her chance and moved alongside her.

“Hello there!” she tried, hoping that an earnest greeting was the right move. The woman stopped, and looked down at her. There was a look in her eyes that Sanae struggled to describe.

“Hello young one.” The woman’s voice was smooth, but something about it felt sharp to Sanae, like silk being dragged across a blade. There was an awkward pause as the woman clearly expected Sanae to continue.

“Um...I was just wondering about your clothes!” she stuttered “I’ve been in the village quite a few times, and I’ve never seen you before, and I wanted to ask where you were from that you got such a striking outfit.” The woman shifter her gaze up and down Sanae, in a manner that, to her, recalled a predator re-examining prey. Sanae recognized it from when she saw Kanako’s snakes judging how easy a meal a rodent might make.

“Indeed,” the woman eventually responded “It’s not a style that’s very popular around here now, though it was all the rage a few decades back.” Sanae didn’t think the woman looked much older than her mid-30s. Her being some type of youkai felt more likely with each passing second. She extended her hand. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Yuuka Kazami.”

Sanae reached out and grabbed her hand, her instinct for social decorum overriding her suspicion momentarily. Her slender fingers felt small in Sanae’s wide hands, but her hands were pleasantly warm, like a ray of sunlight. “Sanae Kochiya, Miko of the Moriya Shrine,” she replied “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Yuuka responded. “The Moriya Shrine is the one on the Youkai Mountain, correct?” Sanae nodded. “What brings you into town? You don’t look equipped for a sermon.”

“Oh, just getting supplies,” Sanae said. She thought for a moment, then hazarded that it was worth a shot. “Do you happen to know where I could purchase enough sake for a festival?”

Yuuka pondered for a moment. “Down that street,” she gestured with her parasol “and to the right, there’s a tavern that should be able to fulfill that order, if you give them a day or two.”

“Oh, thank you, Kazami-san!” Sanae said. “I should get going on my errand. But before I go, can I ask you, what you are doing in the village? I overheard your conversation with that man, are you a farmer?”

“Of a sort. I’m more of a gardener.” she said. “I have a large field of sunflowers that I tend to out past the Road of Reconsideration.”

Sanae froze. She knew the sunflower garden, and had been warned away from it by many of the residents of Gensokyo. Akyuu’s chronicle had described it as being inhabited by an ancient, vicious, utterly sadistic flower-youkai. Was that really who was standing before her?

Shadow of a smile crept across Yuuka’s face, and Sanae realized that Yuuka must have read her reaction. “Have a good festival, little godling,” she said, and unfolded her parasol, before setting off towards the village’s gate. Sanae watched her leave the village, then slowly made her way to the tavern. As she ordered sake for the festival, she considered getting a drink to steady her nerves before heading back to the shrine.


	5. Day 5 & 6: Rain and Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patchouli's rainy day, while the rest of the Manor rests.

Sakuya always knew what to say. Though, in this situation, it would have been easy to guess what to say.

“Breath,” she said, as Patchouli continued coughing. Sakuya helped her sit her up in the chair, a cup of hot tea already on the table in front of Patchouli. “In and out, slowly breath.” Patchouli’s asthma attack began to subside, as she finished the last few hacking coughs, she took a long sip of the tea. English Breakfast, perfect for dealing with an asthma attack. Patchouli had long ago learned to deal with Sakuya’s habit of solving issues almost before they could occur. Her time-manipulation let her handle tasks like this almost instantly, brewing the tea, and all. To an outside observer, it would have appeared that one of Patchouli’s books had moved itself, creating a new cup of tea, a biscuit and a maid by her side, but Patchouli knew exactly what had happened.

“Thank you, Sakuya,” she choked out, before clearing her throat with a final cough. She had summoned a particularly old reference book, and the collected dust on it had triggered her attack when she opened it. She looked, and sure enough, the book was now spotless thanks to Sakuya. “I told you that you shouldn’t touch my books.”

“I’ve not forgotten your warning, but I thought it prudent to remove the cause of your attack,” Sakuya replied. Sakuya had initially cleaned the entire library, but after one book was startled by her, it had frozen itself and the entire surrounding library in ice. Patchouli had dispelled the ice with a quick spell and rescuing Sakuya, warning her away from her books, advising her to only clean the common areas. “Although I did notice that you skipped breakfast, and advise that you eat at least what I brought you,” Sakuya said, gesturing to the biscuit, butter sauce dripping down the edges of the roll. Patchouli obliged, finishing after a few quick bites and a sip of tea. The citrus butter was a surprisingly nice addition to the roll.

“I take it Remilia is staying indoors and unhappy about it?” Patchouli asked, looking at the high window to her library, seeing the rain fall in sheets down it.

“Lady Remilia has decided to spend the day recuperating, and Young Lady Flandre agreed,” Sakuya said, her tone shifting into a familiar formality that she adopted whenever she spoke to, or about Remilia Scarlet.

“You mean they didn’t want to get out of their coffins when they heard the rain,” Patchouli said. Sakuya only inclined her head, smiling. Rather than look out one of the high windows, Patchouli got up and drifted over to a crystal ball. A quick scrying spell, and she had a spherical view of the gate to the Manor, looking in on the building itself. She could barely see the Scarlet Devil Manor behind the rain, though she could see the gate and gatekeeper perfectly. She sat cross-legged by the entrance, her hands pressed together in some intricate configuration, glowing with scintillating colors. Around her, the torrential rain bent away, keeping her and her green ensemble perfectly dry in the storm. Patchouli chuckled, and dropped the scrying, the ball returning to a mere crystal orb. She turned and noticed that Sakuya was still waiting on her.

“Maybe a late brunch is in order,” Patchouli admitted. She turned, “A serving of scrambled eggs, grapefruit, and one of those sandwiches with bacon and lettuce.” Sakuya inclined her head, and Patchouli felt a shift in the aether and saw her form flicker as she used her powers.

“The kitchen staff is already preparing it,” Sakuya replied. “While I know you do not sleep, I would advise that you take the day off, so to speak, to avoid any other irritants.” Patchouli looked over at the alchemical workstation she had had her asthma attack at. It had been another careful experiment, and it was now worthless, as she had missed the window to mix the reagents together properly, and her coughing fit had undoubtedly contaminated the equipment. With a sigh, she emptied the flasks of any reagents that could be dangerous if allowed to react further with a twist of her hand and a few syllables. She drifted over to one of the many common areas of the library and reclined in a chaise longue, setting her tea cup on the coffee table. 

“Maybe some lighter reading is in order,” Sakuya said as she brought over the teapot, refilled Patchouli’s cup, and produced a copy of the Bunbunmaru News. “Just delivered this morning.” Patchouli took the offered newspaper, and began reading the front story; something about a plot by the Kappa to seize something-or-other; before looking up at Sakuya, still waiting on her.

“Say, Sakuya, would you like to take the day off as well?” asked Patchouli “The sisters are resting, and this rain is going to make any outdoors work or errands a pain.” Sakuya smiled, and moved to sit down next to Patchouli, to examine the latest gossip from the Tengu, both of them conveniently forgetting that Patchouli could dispel the thunderstorm.


	6. Day 8: Sadness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koishi stumbles onto an odd human custom.

Koishi Komeiji wandered into the Human Village, and it was as empty as she was. She looked around, wondering where all the humans were. Perhaps the youkai had eaten them? As she wandered, she eventually heard faint speaking, the ring of a gong, and chanting? She moved nearer to the sound, and saw a large crowd gathered around a fancy building. So this is where all the humans were! All the humans were dressed in fine black robes, and Koishi had trouble telling how many humans were there...at least two dozen, perhaps three? She slid through the crowd, unnoticed by all the adults. A few children looked up at her, but they said nothing, their eyes wet. Something tugged at Koishi’s empty heart...didn’t children usually greet her? What strange gathering was this that there was no one to say hello?

Now that she was inside the building she had a better look around. It was more like a pavilion than a real building, with reed walls strung up for privacy. Most of the floor space was filled with chairs, with an open aisle down the middle from the door. The back of the building had a large raised platform, with a fancy box most people were looking at. The lid of this box was open, and inside was a human. Koishi wondered what this human was doing, laying so very still in this box, with coins on his eyes, everyone gathered around. Was he asleep? Looking up past the box, there was a woman sitting behind the box with the human in it. She was dressed in very elaborate purple and black robes, with large beads hanging around her neck. Her hair was a strange mix of a deep purple and bright blonde, and it was so long it fell to where she sat. She clasped her hands over the human, and in her hands were strings of beads and several smoking incense sticks.

Koishi wanted to say something, to ask what this strange gathering was for, but the only sound was a chanting from the woman behind the box. The woman ceased her chanting, and then said something about ‘quiet’ to the humans, Koishi couldn’t hear her, she was too focused on the human in the box. She again wanted to ask, but the silence that now filled the gathering filled her, and she could not find the words to ask.

After several minutes of silence, several humans stood, and moved to the box. They closed the lid, and Koishi could see now the cover of the box was decorated in all manner of black and white ribbons, flowers and talismans. Why did they not let the human out? Then she saw nails along the edge of the lid, each ready to be driven in, to seal the box closed. The woman handed a smooth, riverbed stone to one of the humans, and he moved to the right most nail on the lid. With a great swing, the human drove the nail in with the stone, striking it twice more to finish the job before handing it off to the next human. With the first sound of the stone hitting the nail, sorrow washed through the crowd. Sorrow and pain that all the humans had hidden, now flooded the room. It filled the room, and then it filled Koishi and then she knew, she knew that this human was dead. That this was a funeral, and these humans would never see the one they had placed in the box again.

After all eight nails had been driven in, and the box sealed, the humans all left their seats and formed a line, each of them saying their goodbyes to the dead human before filing out. One of the tiny humans called out to her as he was led out, tugging at her yellow sleeve, but Koishi could not respond. Tears tumbled from her eyes, as the sorrow of parting filled her and refused to leave. The woman behind the box looked up at the little human’s calling out, and her eyes fell upon Koishi, but she said nothing.  
Eventually, all the humans and the woman left the building, leaving it empty, but Koishi was not empty. Sorrow still filled her heart. Why? Why did it not drain from her heart, leaving her as empty as before? Koishi wanted...no, Koishi knew...no, that was not right either. There was something between those two words...something she had long forgotten. The human was dead, never to be again...was that what she was? Was the emptiness that the human now felt like the emptiness she always felt?

“Little stone,” came a voice behind her, and Koishi turned to it. It was the woman. Koishi tried to dry her face on her sleeves, but still she cried. This woman was familiar, she knew. The monk, who had fought her, some time ago. That’s who it was. She set a warm hand on Koishi’s shoulder.

“Miss Monk...am I dead? Is that what’s wrong with me?” Koishi choked out between sobs. The monk stared at her, pity in her eyes, for a long time before replying.

“As long as you walk the earth and desire and remember things, you will not be dead. There is a void inside you Koishi...but that is not wrong,” she said, leading Koishi out of the building. “It’s something to remember, it may be beautiful or terrible, but only you can decide that." She squeezed Koishi's shoulders, trying to comfort her. "Now, it’s getting late. Would you like to stay at the temple again, or would you like to visit your sister?” The monk took Koishi by the shoulder, and guided her out of the village. And before long, the sorrow had drained from her heart, leaving her just as she had arrived.

Empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this one was super weird, as writing from the perspective of someone without true conscientiousness would be. I once read a description of Koishi that said she had no Ego, only an Id and Superego, and tried to express that here. She never 'thinks' anything, only 'wants' and 'knows'. But creating a follow-able train of logic with that is hard, so her 'thought' process is in the narration as questions. Hope it wasn't too corny.


	7. Day 9: Tomboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice helps clean Marisa's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Who is Marisa? She’s a western-style witch, who lives alone in a youkai-infested forest, despite having living family in the Human Village. I decided to focus on the rebellious attitude and interests that define a tomboy, to me.)

It was only two days into the deal, and both Marisa and Alice were beginning to lose their tempers. It had seemed like a straightforward arrangement: Alice needed new reagents for her doll-making spells, and Marisa had offered to distill the ephemeral resin she needed in exchange for a favor. Alice had jokingly offered to clean Marisa’s house with her dolls as aids, and Marisa had accepted, much to Alice’s surprise. And while more willing to part with the junk that had accumulated in her remote forest house than Alice had initially thought she would be, she still clung to so much. Every time Marisa interrupted with a “wait” or a “no, not that one” it ground her nerves more.

For her part, Marisa found this arrangement just as stressful, mostly because she was coming to understand the full scope of what was hoarded away in her house. After the first day, Alice had re-negotiated the deal to just Marisa’s study/living room, and Marisa had agreed. As Shanghai floated past her with a clump of chemical-stained rags, she deliberated over a few very old hair bows she used to tie her side-braid. They were navy blue or black, and two of them had begun to fray, with the material growing stiff with age, but when she thought of her first memories of them-

> _“You shouldn’t grow used to such things. A young woman will not be accepted if she adopts these foreign trinkets.”_

She swept the bows into a drawer and looked away, trying to banish the sudden recollection of him out of her mind, but it was difficult. Literally sorting her past was only going to be more common as she and Alice cleaned out this room. Alice was sitting by a table by a growing stack of books that her London dolls kept contributing to as they found them. Alice set a book on leyline interaction into the “keep” pile, then picked up the next one to be sorted and frowned.

“Marisa, this an old grimoire,” she said “You keep your notes and spellbooks with your reference books?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Marisa responded, distracted as another doll whizzed by.

“Regardless, this one’s in terrible shape,” Alice said, examining it “It’s spine’s been torn twice, half the pages are nothing but water damage, and the formulae are nearly illegible. I’m going to-”

> _She watched helplessly as he tore the spellbook in half, ignoring her pleas to stop._
> 
> _“Papa, please no!” she shouted. His massive hands made short work of the tiny journal, and he tossed the shreds out the door, into the muddy street._
> 
> _"I will not tolerate these profane interests of yours any longer!” he bellowed “You are a daughter of the Kirisame household! It’s time you acted like it!”_

Marisa crossed over and snatched the worn journal out of Alice’s hand.

“I...I still have some aetheric equations I need to transcribe out of this one,” she stuttered out, putting it in the drawer with the bows. Alice opened her mouth to object, but reconsidered, and continued sorting books in silence, until the end of day two.

~~~~~

On the third day, Marisa had finally gathered enough sap to start her end of the bargain in earnest. Bucket in hand, she gathered the different components needed to create the resin, and began to set up her distillation rig on the newly cleaned countertop.

“Now I see why you wanted the place cleaned before you got started,” Alice remarked, looking at the vast array of beakers, flasks, and glass tubes that Marisa was constructing. “You never would have been able to set this up without clearing off the counters.” Marisa only nodded, began to partition out the ingredients after connecting the last tube. With gloves and a face-mask on, she avoided direct conversation, focusing on her work. Alice gazed around, her eyes falling to a small pile of unused glass containers in the corner. She walked over and stared down at it, picking up a flask from the pile. It was chipped all along the edge with tiny spider web cracks throughout the rest of the glass. Each of the other pieces was in a similar, sorry state.

“Do I have your permission to throw this broken glass work out, Marisa?” Alice gestured to the pile of beakers and flasks, half-contained in a burlap sack-

> _She struggled to lift the enormous sack over her shoulder. Father had found her alchemical set-up in the attic, and gathered all of it and her books into a burlap sack, and tossed it out into the pouring rain. She had run out to collect it, but Father had closed and locked the door behind her. She had pounded and screamed to be let back in, but he refused to answer. Now she struggled to haul her most prized possessions down the street, hoping that maybe she could find shelter at Kourindou._

“It’s a restoration work-in-progress, don’t touch it.” Marisa said, trying to refocus on her work. Alice thought about saying something to Marisa about the pattern she had noticed. She was still human enough to know what this behavior was, but she dared not speak up about it. What right did a former human have to say about a human’s issues?

~~~~~

On the fourth and final day of the deal, the two magicians were mostly silent. Marisa was carefully monitoring the pressure needed to force the finished resin out through a tube into a jar, and Alice and her dolls were finishing the final sorting of junk in the corner. At the bottom of a pile of clothes, Alice found something unexpected. A dress and witch’s hat, both deep purple velvet. It wasn’t the outfit that was surprising; Marisa’s entire wardrobe was nothing but such dresses and hats, but the color. Alice knew that she favored pure blacks and deep blues, not this fuzzy, purple color, and besides it was very, very old. Alice stood and took the dress and hat over to Marisa, standing beside her and waiting to be noticed, as not to startle her. Eventually, Marisa noticed her. 

“Do you want to keep this as well?” Alice asked.

> _“How DARE you come back to this house -MY house- dressed like some foreigner!” he shouted, his face turning red. “As a daughter of the Kirisa-”_
> 
> _“Oh shut up!” she said, only elevating her voice to be heard over his shouting. “I came back to tell you I found my own place to live. You can do whatever you want with my room, I’m never sleeping here again!” She hadn't meant to start shouting, but now that she had started, it felt good to shout at him. “I found someone to help me build a house, outside the village! This is goodbye!” She turned to leave._
> 
> _“Maruko Kirisame, if you take one more step out that door, you’ll-”_
> 
> _“That’s not my name anymore! You can’t control me!” she screamed._
> 
> _He charged her, finally ready to act on years and years of threats. But she was ready. She raised her new Bagua-engraved magical furnace towards him, and released a minor pulse of force. It pushed him back, and he stumbled, off-balance, back against the wall, speechless._
> 
> _“Don’t ever call me by that wretched name again,” she said “I’m Marisa Kirisame, and I’m not some impure spirit or youkai witch! I’m a perfectly ordinary magician!”_

Marisa stared at the dress and hat for a long moment before responding.

“Yes. It was a gift from Rinnosuke. That was my first outfit as...as a magician.”

Alice nodded, and set the wide hat and long dress aside.


	8. Day 10: Crossover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doremy Sweet's very busy day.

Oh! Welcome, dreaming human. It seems you’ve wandered out of your dream bubble. No, don’t worry about it or think about it too much. Please ignore the castle over there. Where are you from? Huh...I haven’t heard of such a place before. Well, no matter, we can get you back to your proper place before you wake, no problem. My name? Doremy Sweet, ruler of the Dream World. Please stick close now, there’s no telling what nightmares lurk in the edges of consciousness.

Now, let’s see, central processing...ah yes, this way. Right though this door, human. Yes, we’re in a bright meadow now. Yes,that comically spooky forest was just a doorway away. This world operates on dream logic, nothing has to make sense to you, it only makes sense to me. And right through this door...good, this red city with the odd streets and too many subways. Keep up human, our train is almost about to leave. There we are. Have a seat, it a while yet until our stop. Oh, you’ve seen this city before? Well, you may have had a shared dream here. Or perhaps you wandered into someone else’s dream. The Dream World is a transitive plane, which means it connects to other places you can’t get to. You could go to the moon, to Hell and many other places, if I was feeling cruel. I could even put your dream-body into the waking world, and you could go meet yourself! That would be more work for me, though, so that won’t be happening today.

Oh my, let me check my directory here...It seems I’ll have to stabilize several dreams before I can return you to your body. Some of the bubbles are growing unstable, I have to tend to them. Come along, this is our stop for now, I’ll not leave a loose human like you alone in this subway, who knows where you would end up. Ah, here we are. Dream Crimson-Aleph-1902. Looks like two dreams collided, letting the inhabitants mingle. Not an uncommon occurrence, but they do need to be monitored, as they can be dangerous if they get out of hand. Take a look, we’ll be here for a moment. No, just put your face against the bubble and look, nothing fancy.

* * *

_Remilia Scarlet loved refined company, and there was no finer company in all of Noxus. Sakuya accompanying her with her parasol, she moved through the streets of the Mortoraa district, the Immortal Bastion looming ominous in the midday sun. Eventually, she arrived at the iron gates and opulent courtyard of the estate she was seeking. Sakuya opened the gate, and let them in, eventually passing through the silverbark doors, into his mansion._

_He was dressed in his finest, with long crimson robes, fine red boots, and bright ruby clasps up his coat. His silver hair spilled down each side of his face, his blank white eyes, looking up from a book as Sakuya threw the doors open for Remilia._

_“Lady Scarlet, so good that you could make it,” said Vladimir, his eyes shifting over to Sakuya. “And who is this you’ve brought with you?”_

_“She’s not lunch, my dear, just the help,” Remilia offered._

_“As you wish, milady. Now, tell me, who have you drunk from recently, and are you willing to share?”_

* * *

Interesting, isn’t it? Yes, those two are from different worlds, but they have met before, here. They meet and discuss blood-drinking quite often in their dream. But this bubble is stable now, so we can move on. Down, through this manhole here. And here we are, mind the gravity shift, human. 

Yes, back in a meadow of flowers. Mind the ravine. They call this place the Black Garden, which isn’t a very fitting name in my book, it’s so colorful! Nevermind. Ah, yes, dream Ochre-Delta-7229. Oh, this one is much less stable, we may need to pop it. Let me see if I can stabilize it. Human, watch and tell me if it’s getting better or worse.

* * *

_“Come on, Rukia, I don’t want to have to get violent,” Komachi said._

_Ichigo braced himself, assessing the shinigami in front of him. She was very tall, with wavy red hair done up in loose twintails. Her uniform was different than most, a deep blue rather than standard black. What Ichigo noticed most, though, was her zanpakuto, which took the form of a massive scythe with a curiously curving blade, rather than a simple katana._

_“They already sent one other shinigami to get you, and if I come back to the Enma empty handed, you know who she’ll send next,” Komachi continued. She lifted her scythe off her shoulders, and set it blade-down on the ground next to her. “If you come now, I won’t have to kill this human you gave all your powers to.”_

_“I’d like to see you try it!” Ichigo shouted. “Rukia’s not going anywhere she doesn’t want!”_

_“Jeez, you really don’t get it at all, do you kid? Oh well, let’s get this over with.” Komachi sighed, then in the blink of an eye, lunged forward._

* * *

Well, that ought to do for now. When the dreams of two different people from different worlds merge, sometimes the worlds start to blur together in the dream and that can be very dangerous. You’ve got this from here, right? Yes, of course. No, not you, human. Come along, we’re almost back to your dream. Yes, I did leave a copy of myself by that dream. It’s a trick I picked up from an old bird-warlock who liked to hang out in an endless forest. And, through this door, this, and this door. Well, here we are. No, you won’t remember much of this, it will all just be a very odd dream if you do. Now, go! Hopefully, I’ll see you never again, human!

* * *

Doremy sighed, exhausted. That was one lost human, and her tome told her there were three more loose from their dream, out and about. Fortunately, they were nowhere close to any exits, so they were in no danger of getting lost in another world, so she could take her time.

[You certainly keep busy, Doremy.]

Great, just what she needed. She turned to see the all-too-familiar figure standing behind her. Tall, dark and gaunt, just like he always was. “Unlike some Dream Rulers, Morpheus, I like to make sure my realm doesn’t fall apart under me.” She sighed again. “Do you need something?”

[I could use your help with a particularly thorny issue of… my previous ownership of Hell. I believe you are acquainted with the Goddess of Hell?]


	9. Day 11: Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maribel and Renko discuss the past.

“What do you think life was like for people in the past?” Maribel asked.

Renko Usami paused, and put her fork down, as she finished chewing her bite of the meal. A few years ago, before she had met Maribel Hearn, this question would have left her grasping at straws, struggling with how vague it was. But she had grown used to Maribel’s thought process, so she thought for a moment, before swallowing.

“How do you mean?” Renko asked in reply. “How long ago? Like the Meiji era, or like the Heisei era? And what do you mean by ‘How they lived?’”

“I was thinking around the Reiwa era, but sure, let's go with the end of the Heisei era, around 2018 CE,” Maribel said, taking a sip of her drink. The two were at an outdoor restaurant, one that advertised itself with powerful ion-filters, so you could actually enjoy the outdoors, without masks. “As to the ‘how’...I mean what they ate regularly, how they communicated, what they did everyday.”

“Well, we still have all the archived social media from back then, so we know how they talked on the web, and what their daily concerns were.” Renko paused, looking out over the town. Kyoto still retained it’s ‘older’ character against the other flooding megatropolises in Japan, it being the only non-coastal major city. “They were worried about all the same things we do; money, family, the state of the environment, what to do for leisure. Apparently discussions of the state of their entertainment was one of the bigger topics, alongside occasional end-of-the-world hysteria.”

“And what do you think they ate?”

“Oh no, Mary, I got that last one, you go this time.” Renko countered. Maribel stared down at her meal; a fried cutlet of tofu and mushrooms, once made as an alternative to pork, now almost the only option, with a side salad of mostly synthetic lettuce, and American-style iced tea.

“Well, I know way fewer plants and animals were extinct back then, so they probably had more real meats and vegetables,” she said, after a minute of chewing.

“You’re right on that one,” Renko said, finishing the last bite of her teriyaki veggie roll. “Although, the end of the Heisei era and into the Reiwa era is when meat replacements really started to take off, in popularity, so it wasn’t all real animal bits.”

“But it wasn't a matter of availability, like now,” Maribel countered “They were both equally easy to get, and they cost the same.”

“Yes and no. Some couldn’t eat animal meat for health reasons, some didn’t for religious or moral reasons,” Renko offered. “It’s never quite as simple as ‘they could have it, so they did’.” There was a long pause, as Maribel chewed.

“What do you think they dreamed about?” she asked as she finished her meal. Renko thought about that for quite a while.

“I once read my grandmother’s journal,” she said, slowly. “Beyond all the worrying about popularity and her schooling and whatnot, she wrote about seeing a land full of strange beasts and heroic warriors in her dreams. I don’t really know what to make of it.” Renko looked up to see Maribel staring off into the distance, looking at something only she could see. Renko recognized “Mary’s Boundary Stare” and tapped the payment ring with her phone, settling both their checks. She stood up, putting her jacket back on. “Well, should we get going? I feel like Dr. Latency has a new tale to write.”

“Yes, I do believe you are right,” Maribel smiled. “Time to see the unseen.”


	10. Day 13: Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sculptor God crafts a new type of haniwa.

Sculptor God Keiki Haniyasushin sat deep within the Beast Realm. The humans spirits were so desperate for freedom, their prayers for salvation had manifested her into the realm. She had supplied many haniwa, many clay idols, to the human spirits, and they were slowly using them to carve out territory in the Beast Realm, as the beast spirits could do nothing to her clay idols, each infused with the hopes and dreams of the human spirits. 

But the advance was sloppy, undisciplined. Each time a spirit possessed her haniwa, it went on a rampage through enemy territory, carving a path that the spirits could move into. The rampages only ended when the haniwa burned out from over-use, taking the human spirit with it, like a wax candle sputtering and dying, ending both candle and flame. It caused Keiki no small amount of anguish, to see her creations consumed that way, and so she had set out to craft a new type of haniwa, one who could control the humans.

It would have to be self-aware, not a shell for the humans to inhabit; a commander for the army she was slowly crafting. She had to make sure it was loyal, stern, and resilient, so it would not be shattered by the faith devotion of the human spirits. She had set to sculpting nearly two days ago, and now she neared the completion of her haniwa leader.

She was finishing the details on her clay commander, refining the grooves of her armor with a fine wire loop in one hand and smoothing the scales of her armor with a wire-brush in her other hand. She let her hands take over the work, and let her mind wander, wondering, with a small amount of surprise, when she had begun to think of this new work as “her.” When had this new project taken on more life than just another clay idol? When she had decided to give it a human form, so the human spirits would naturally obey it? Or was it when she had decided that she needed agency and a spirit, to not be overwhelmed by the human spirit’s desire for vengeance that pervaded the Beast Realm?

Keiki noticed that her commander’s armor was finished. There was only one thing left to do before painting, glazing and firing. She moved to her blank face, and began to sculpt. The facial features came not from decisions, but from discovery. There was a face of a warrior buried beneath the clay, Keiki was not creating it, but uncovering it. She had set out initially to create a fierce soldier, a leader, but she had discovered something else in the clay as she sculpted. A woman, a girl even, not the muscled man she had imagined at the outset. Her face was a similar surprise, as she had at first expected a furrowed brow, squinting eyes, a sharp nose and creased lips. But as she shaved the clay away, she found instead a softer face. It’s expression was blank, not twisted into a sergeant's scowl. Wide eyes, a rounded nose, soft cheeks and a softer jawline, with a simple mouth. Keiki stepped back and looked upon her work. She had wanted to make a warrior, but what she had found was a person. One who could be anything. ‘ _ This is right’ _ , Keiki thought, with a smile.

She summoned her Sculpting Arts, to grow the burgeoning consciousness within the idol, letting the new mind decide the rest of its appearance. As the idol began to glow, color slowly began to fade into the naked clay. Keiki washed her hands of the spare clay, replacing the tools in her apron, and retrieving her glazing brushes and the magic glaze that would animate her commander. Her creation.

Her daughter, she admitted to herself. Since she had incarnated from the wishes of the human spirits, she had yet to make anything for herself. Endless fortifications and haniwa shells for the spirits, and only now was she making something the way she wanted. Something to execute her will in the world, but also something alive. Something that could choose and act however she wanted. The thought both thrilled and terrified her. ‘ _ All art must grow beyond the artist,’  _ she thought,  _ ‘even the gods.’ _

Keiki finished with the glazing, and set her tools aside. She looked over the color her commander had given herself. Deeply tan skin, with burnished golden hair and eyes, the fabric of her outfit a pure white, and her armor a gold to match her hair. Keiki moved to right in front of her commander, and concentrated on the final step of the ritual: firing. She looked into the statue’s face, and exhaled the Breath of Life into her hand. A silvery mist filled her empty hand, as Keiki made sure that the new soul she had just created was strong enough. She motioned to the face of the statue with her hand, and the soul sprung from her hand into the empty eyes of the commander, filling the vessel with true life.

Flames erupted from the statue, shooting out in all directions. Keiki raised her hands to shield her face, but the firestorm was over before it began, and where a clay idol had once stood in her workshop, Keiki now saw a young woman. She gazed up at Keiki.

“I thank you for the gift of life, creator,” she said, “Would you do me the utmost honor of bestowing me with a name?” Keiki choked back a gasp. The emotions she felt upon feeling her idol speak flooded her. Pride, joy, trepidation, fondness, caution, love, all crashed through her heart. She paused for a long, long moment as she regarded her, thinking of a name.

At last, she stepped forward and embraced her daughter in their first hug. “Hello,  Mayumi.”


	11. Day 15: Changing Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanako Yasaka contemplates her miserable existence in the outside world.

The Divinity of the Winds, Kanako Yasaka was dying. It was odd to say, being a god, but gods were proving more and more mortal these days. She was barely a shade now, so starved for mortal faith. Mortal belief was the life-blood of gods and youkai, and she had seen many friends and fellow deities fade into nothingness over the past few decades, as humans gained more of their own power. Now she subsisted on the devotion of less than a dozen, with the superstition of a few hundred more, with the weakest form of recognition, cultural memory, to bind it all together.

She hovered, invisible, behind the donation box of her shrine; once a mighty temple, now a tourist attraction. Her holy lake, which had once had a one-hundred and eight onbashira standing tall in it, now had none. A tourist walked forward and dropped a few coins in the donation box, and for a moment Kanako tried to harvest faith from the act, recalling how he mirrored the pilgrims of old, but it was fruitless, like blood from a stone. The man was all admiration for the shrine and lake, and none for her.

The shrine, what was once the gathering and focal point of deviation for her followers. In a bitter twist of irony, it was slowly killing her. She had wrested control of it away from another goddess centuries ago, but allowed her to live for her unique skills and agreeable character. As an act of goodwill, she had allowed her new shrine to keep its old name, the same name as that goddess...Moriya. Now the Moriya Shrine was all that was known, and she, once the supreme avatar of the wind, was being forgotten. She seethed over these facts again, feeling herself weaker than she was yesterday.

A pack of elderly humans ambled up the stairs, coming for their weekly offerings, and Kanako sighed with relief. When they reached the shrine, they all mumbled out their prayers and left their offerings, before their nursing attendant herded them back down the stairs. Their belief in her was so fragmented, some just going through the motions, no real faith left in their routine, others so old they had forgotten who they were praying to. Receiving the faith was like a sour, bitter meal for a human. Necessary, but also revolting. Kanako wanted nothing more than to appear, and throw wind to their back, and show them all her divine power. But alas, it had been over a century since enough people believed in her for her to manifest physically. She did send a cooling breeze their way, though, as it was all she could do.

“Same old day, eh Kanako?” came a spectral voice from behind her. She turned to see Suwako Moriya, the goddess whom she had claimed the shrine from, floating there, as thin and insubstantial as Kanako. Suwako prefered to spend her time away from humans, but still liked to check up with the shrine every day. Although only the shrine attendants and caretakers still knew her name, she remained in the same state as Kanako, due almost entirely to her name being attached to a semi-famous local site. Kanako grimaced at the irony again.

“I am tired, old friend,” Kanako said, “Tired of this waning world. Tired of feeding on scraps of devotion.” Kanako could not keep her true despair from entering into her voice. “All they revere is themselves and their own creations now.” Kanako had tried to re-invent herself as a goddess of the new world, back when she had lost her physical form and it had become obvious they could no longer manifest into rituals to gather the faith to survive. But it had gone wrong, created another deity, one that siphoned faith away from her and had run off to live in the human world, filled with technology.

“I know you are, Kanako, but this is the way of the world. No one knows who we are, so we slowly become no one.,” Suwako replied. Kanako hated the thought of fading away like that. But she hated more the idea of hanging on for another decade in this miserable state, before vanishing to the winds she had once commanded. If only…

She recalled the last youkai she had seen in physical form. A bake-danuki from the land of Sado had paid the shrine a visit nearly a decade ago, disguised as a human. Through some tanuki trickery, she was able to persist without belief. She had been surprised to see a god still inhabiting the shrine, and the two had conversed for hours. She had mentioned the tale of the land of illusion, that somewhere deep in the mountains there was a place where all supernatural creatures could live without the need for humans to believe in them, and asked why Kanako had not yet relocated there. Kanako had given her an honest answer: that she didn’t believe such a place existed, and as a dwindling goddess in a shrine, she could barely leave the shrine to find this mythical land. But now, reflecting on the slow starvation ahead, she had new vigor in finding this place where she could again walk upon the earth and command the mighty winds.

“Suwako, you still have living descendants, don’t you?” Kanako asked, a scheme beginning to form in her mind.

“I do, there’s one living by my namesake lake, last I checked,” Suwako replied. She looked at Kanako suspiciously. “What are you thinking of?”

“Just go retrieve her, if you can,” Kanako said, “Bring her here, I’ll need a arahitogami, a living god, for this to work.” With knowledge of her name being more widespread, Suwako would be able to travel farther, and manifest to one human at a time. Yes...this plan just might work. Kanako looked out over the few non-believers milling about their shrine, so different from the true believers of ages past. 

“Times change...and so must we.”


	12. Day 16: Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sumireko Usami has had a very bad few weeks. Minor spoilers for Violet Detector.

“Usami-chan, you look terrible.”

Sumireko looked up to see one of her classmates. She was looking down at her with a mixture of pity and curiosity.

“Thanks, Yui. Really helpful comment,” Sumireko replied. 

“No, I mean it. Have you been staying up late? You look really poorly rested.” Yui said, sitting down on the bench next to her.

“No. I actually head to bed really early,” Sumireko said, smiling to herself. “I just haven’t slept well for a few weeks.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Yui said, with what Sumireko thought might be something approaching genuine concern. “What’s been wrong?”

“Oh, just bad dreams.” Sumireko said, trying to sound casual. It had been more than that, her dreamself had stolen her body and walked around as her for three weeks, and she had only just wrestled control of her body back last night. Now she had three weeks of classes she didn’t remember, and she was scrubbing through her social media to try and see what else the Dream World Sumireko might have done while living in her body. But after the disaster of sharing her photos of Gensokyo online, she wasn’t going to tell Yui anything about all that.

“Oh,” Yui said, somewhat caught off-guard by that answer. “Do...you...want to talk about them?”

“I mean, I guess it couldn’t hurt.” she said. It could hurt so much. 

“I don’t really remember much of it, you know how dreams are.” She remembered all three weeks. 

“I was just being chased by something.” She was doing the chasing.

“It was unclear what the something was, but it was so strange.” It wasn't unclear, it was her.

“And a bunch of other weird characters kept showing up. I don’t really remember what they were doing.” They had all attacked her dreamself, hoping to learn how Dream World Sumireko had stolen her body.

“That sounds pretty spooky and weird,” Yui said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Do you need some help? I know a few doctors-”

“No, it’s fine. They stopped recently,” Sumireko assured her. “I just gotta get a few good nights under my belt before I feel better.”

“That’s good to hear,” Yui said, a warm smile slipping over her face. “Got to run, see you at lunch, Usami-chan!” Sumireko waved goodbye as Yui stood and left, then returned to paging through the new photo album on her phone. It was filled with shots of her dreamself’s battles with the other dreamselves. Dream World Sumireko Usami had certainly made her life more interesting, but also less safe.

A chill ran down her spine as she thought of visiting that Dream World again, what the other dreamselves would do to her.

* * *

**_We see you. We see you always. Living your life, playing in the light, only visiting when you sleep. All you do not say, all you refuse to feel, we must say and feel._ **

**_You’re denial empowers us, it lets us wreak havoc on you when you visit us. Living in the darkness while you soak in the light, it is any wonder that you have bad dreams, Sumireko Usami?_ **

**_It felt so good to walk in the waking world. To say all the things you never would. But we have so much more. So much violence repressed, so many hurtful things stifled._ **

**_You all can’t hold us here, in this prison world forever. One day the baku will slip up. And then you will regret caging us. We’ll be the ones in the light, and you can find out what it’s like to live as a dream. As a nightmare._ **

**_LET US OUT._ **


	13. Day 17: Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Bunbunmaru guest article by Sakuya Izayoi.

**A Practical Lesson in Tea Preparation**

By Sakuya Izayoi _(Published Reiwa 2, March 18th)_

Tea preparation is equal parts art and science. Not the matter of actually serving the tea, that is a pure recipe. Know all the lists, and you can prepare tea in any way. But the art is in reading your attendees and knowing what they will want before they do. That takes careful observation, preparation and intuition. Allow me to illustrate, by recounting what my day is like attending to my charges, on a per-person basis.

In order to judge what may be in favor on the day, I wake bright and early, before dawn, to begin my many responsibilities. While I myself usually prefer espresso or simple black coffee, when I feel like tea I often prefer a black, caffeine-rich variety to start the day. Assam and Munnar varieties are what I most often have, although the associated blends (Irish Breakfast and English Afternoon) are equally good. 

After myself, the first to take tea is our gatekeeper, Hong Meiling. A native of mainland China, she mostly prefers chinese teas and blends, primarily oolong and green tea. She will usually take tea twice a day, after her morning martial arts exercises, and again at sun-down. Her favorites include Biluochun and Ruan Zhi, although she will occasionally take a fermented Pu’er at sun-down. On particularly hot days, she will take a third, mid-day tea, forgoing her usual preference and defaulting to herbal chrysanthemum tea, iced, to combat the heat. Special occasions must also be taken into consideration, as Meiling prefers the subtly floral Huangshan Maofeng tea when attending dates, parties and other special events, and she also has one refined Da Hong Pao once every year on a very special date that I will not commit to this document.

Moving on in my daily routine, next I attend to our resident librarian and master wizard, Patchouli Knowledge. She prefers lighter English and European blends. Another lesson to learn here: medical conditions of your attendees. The medical benefits of certain teas should be researched and studied, and touted (if necessary) for the health of those you are serving. Ms. Knowledge’s thaumaturgical and alchemical studies have left her with a variety of medical issues. Chiefly treatable among them with tea is the asthma, ginger and fennel varieties is what she prefers of the available options as a daily choice, but black, high-caffeine teas are better for fighting actual asthma attacks. Of those, she prefers the English blends, such as Earl Grey and English Breakfast. Ms. Knowledge is not a picky drinker beyond these parameters, but she does prefer simple teas, that can be enjoyed over a long period as she reads, studies and experiments.

Next is the young Ms. Flandre Scarlet. While the younger Scarlet sister does not prefer tea, and does not take more traditional tea outside of special events, her preferred drink with most meals is American-style iced tea. This beverage can be cold-brewed in large pitchers before hands and chilled with ice, no concern is needed for brewing the correct variety ahead of time. Flandre prefers her iced tea with three teaspoonfuls of sugar (please note this is not a general guideline for this beverage, this is excessive and to Ms. Scarlet’s taste) a lemon slice, and a sprig of mint. When she participates in events and parties at the Manor, she will often have japanese Sencha tea.

And finally, my lady Remilia Scarlet. Upon waking, she prefers a traditional English Breakfast tea with the rest of her meal. While both vampires, neither of the Scarlet sisters will take blood in their tea, but I include a small saucer of goat’s blood with her tea, as she may need it to aid her in waking some days. Afternoon tea is usually something more subtle, floral Jasmine and Rose being her preferred for this meal. Wine is her preferred drink for dinner and evening meals, but she will occasionally request a roasted green tea with dinner, which is invariably Biluochun, same as Meiling. She also prefers Tieguanyin tea on very special occasions. 

Guests must also be taken into consideration. Two of the Scarlet Devil Manor’s most common guests are the shrine maiden Reimu Hakurei and the magician Marisa Kirisame. Guests are particularly tricky, as you must learn their temperament and preferences early, as they will not be staying with you outside of tea time, and it is vital that they enjoy that time. As a deeply traditional resident of Gensokyo, Reimu prefers Sencha, although I have been able to calm her with Hojicha when she comes to the Manor irate about something. The times Marisa is visiting and not attempting to steal from the mansion, she has expressed a love of sweet black teas such as exotic Ceylon or rare Sun Moon Lake.

And there you have an introduction into how I judge a day in the life of the Scarlet Devil Manor.

> _(Editor’s note from Aya Shameimaru of the Bunbunmaru News: While all of these teas may sound delicious, I do not encourage you to seek out the Scarlet Devil Mansion without first seeking a proper invite onto the grounds, as the author of this article may eject you. Either from the grounds, or from this mortal coil.)_


	14. Day 19: Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation between tsukumogami.

“Su-san, Su-san~”

Medicine Melancholy was rarely happy, and seldom joyful. At her core was a bitter, hateful memory. It was what had animated her after a hundred years of existence. She was born from a doll abandoned in a field of poisonous flowers. Over many decades, the toxins had soaked into her wood, and the growing consciousness with her stewed over her abandonment. Spite, bitterness, and hatred were the things that had given her life, and so her life reflected these feelings.

“Konvara, konvara~”

She continued singing to herself as she absorbed the poison of the May bells in the flower patch. Muenzuka was a paradise of deadly plants, filled with spider-lilies, but she had been experimenting with other poisonous plants, trying to craft a new, more deadly and painful toxin. Thin purple lines of fluid snaked out of the flowers of the May bells as she siphoned the convallatoxin out and absorbed it into her wooden hands. Tiny Su-san floated nearby, her careful, ever-present curiosity keeping her away. She was the doll body Medicine had been born from, before she had manifested a larger, more powerful humanoid body. Most tsukumogami had a more harmonious relationship with their old vessels, but she had shed it and all it represented as soon as she could, so Su-san hung around her as an odd, vestigial thing.

“Modoku, Mod-”

“Medicine!” shouted a voice from behind her, one she recognized. She slowly rose from her crouched position in the middle of the May bell patch, her wooden, doll-like fingers dripping with her special venom. She turned to see the speaker.

Standing behind her was Kogasa Tatara, another tsukumogami. She was the embodiment of an abandoned paper umbrella, a karakasa, which she still used like a regular umbrella, despite its large single eye, and occasionally drooling tongue that hung out of its mouth. There was a look in her two-tone eyes that Medicine had never seen from her before. Kogasa was usually smiling, or distraught, but this look of anger, of rage she was wearing was something new. She was leveling her old umbrella self at Medicine like it was a sword.

“How could you attack a human? How could you kill one?!” Kogasa screamed. So she had heard. It was no surprise really, Kogasa spent so much time around the human village she was sure to hear about these things.

“He didn’t die. The Eientei doctor found him and treated him.” she rebutted, turning away.

“And he’s stuck in a wheelchair for who knows how long. Maybe forever!” Kogasa’s fury was not dampened by this detail. “He can barely move at all! Look at me, Medicine!” Medicine turned and stared her in the eyes again, and thought for a moment she might be seeing true hatred in Kogasa’s eyes. “Why?!”

Medicine would have laughed at the question if Kogasa’s outrage wasn’t so clearly genuine. “Because it’s what I do, Tatara.” she said with a sneer. “Just like how you sustain your existence by surprising humans, I live by poisoning them. It’s the way Gensokyo works.”

Kogasa’s outstretched arm and pointing umbrella wavered. “But, you were finding another way! You were studying at Eientei, with Dr. Yagakoro. Finding some other way of living as a doll...”

“Don’t act like that was ever an option. I was just using her. Her knowledge of how to counteract poisons was very helpful in my own research.” Medicine smiled. “Besides, don’t tell me you  _ care _ about the life of a human?” Kogasa’s fury was giving way to despair.

“But, how could you try and kill a human? They gave you life! They crafted you!”

“I wouldn’t expect a lost umbrella to know the pain of abandonment. You got to drift on the wind, moving from place, searching for your old owner. I was discarded like **TRASH**!” her voice slipped, and Medicine started shouting. “My owner threw me away the instant she got a better doll, and left me in a patch of toxic plants! No one came for me, I created myself!” Medicine could see Kogasa’s legs begin to shake, unable to contain her emotions. She saw her shift, and Medicine could she her gathering power for a spell in her off-hand. Medicine responded by raising a hand toward Kogasa, as her purple poisonous mist began to roil of her outstretched hand, and the convallatoxin dripped from her hand in thick, syrupy drops.

“Think carefully about your next move, karakasa,” Medicine said, in a low, threatening voice. “I’ve just fed, and I know how bad you are at surprising people. Do you really think you can take me?” Doubt crawled across Kogasa’s face, her abysmal self-esteem warring with her burning desire to punish Medicine. Medicine smiled as she saw doubt finish its transformation into fear, as Kogasa unfolded her umbrella and flew away, making a bee-line for the Bamboo Forest of the Lost.

Medicine savored the moment. She didn’t speak with humans at all, but it felt good to shout at them by proxy when the human-loving sycophants like Kogasa and all the other youkai who made nice with the humans confronted her. However, she knew she couldn’t stay. As fun as it was to terrify the stupid umbrella, she was surely going to retrieve the immortal doctor, and Medicine couldn’t be here when they returned. She reached down and picked a bundle of un-harvested May bells, and set off to hide somewhere until this all blew over, Su-san floating absently behind.


End file.
